I've often wished it before, Mr.Curzon, an' I'm thinkin' that 'twill be the makin' of ye; an' a handsome, purty little crathur she is an' no mistake.

An' who is to give away the poor dear, sir, askin' yer pardon ?" "I am," says the professor.
"Oh no, sir; the likes was never known.

'Tis the the father or one of his belongings as gives away the bride, _niver_ the husband to be, 'an if ye _have_ nobody, sir, you two, why I'm sure I'd be proud to act for ye in this matther.

Faix I don't disguise from ye, Misther Curzon, dear, that I feels like a mother to that purty child this moment, an' I tell ye _this_, that if ye don't behave dacent to her, ye'll have to answer to Mrs.Mulcahy for that same." "What d'ye mean, woman ?" roars the professor, indignantly.

"Do you imagine that I---- ?" "No.